Knight of Flowers
by Min Daae
Summary: A Song of Ice and Fire by GRRM. Set sometime during A Game of Thrones, I have no idea where this came from. Don't hurt me too much. Sandor/Sansa, very vaguely, though a little bird can be thoughtless.


It was a rare moment to herself, and Sansa was gathering flowers.

For no particular reason – Jeyne seemed to be occupied. Arya was practicing her dancing – she seemed awfully involved in it, for someone who'd never paid much attention when Sansa had tried to get her to dance, just as practice, of course. It would have been horribly embarrassing to misstep while dancing with the prince. Her prince. "Prince Joffrey and Princess Sansa," she said, to no one, and smiled.

Someone laughed, raucously, and she gasped and turned around, startled. It was the Hound. She scrambled for her dignity. "Ser," she said, "You startled me."

"I'm no knight." His voice was rough and harsh as iron scraping across stone. Sansa nearly flinched for the harshness.

"What are you – doing here?"

"Keeping an eye on you." She noticed that he was holding a knife, sharpening it on a whetstone in long strokes. She tried not to gulp. "Don't want the little bird flying off."

"Who sent you?" She demanded, hoping that her voice sounded commanding and knowing that it probably didn't. He looked up at her, expression unreadable, and then she felt foolish. Who else would send the Hound anywhere? "J- the prince?" She said, almost breathless.

The Hound shrugged one massive shoulder and said nothing. Sansa fidgeted anxiously. "Well-" She hesitated, briefly, then said more firmly, "If you're going to stay you can walk with me rather than – skulking about." She didn't _really _want to spend any time near him – if Joffrey wanted her protected, why couldn't he send someone more pleasant? – but a lady couldn't say that. It wouldn't be courteous. For the same reason, she kept her gaze fixed over his shoulder so that she didn't have to look at his face too much with its horrible burns. She did catch the quirk of his mouth, though, as though he wanted to say something and decided against it.

"As you command," he said, and for a moment she thought he was mocking her, but then he hopped off the stone garden wall and strode over to her, sheathing the knife. She noticed for the first time that he was wearing a sword, too.

"Don't you ever take that off?" She asked, still trying to sound imperious as she waved a hand at the sword.

He snorted. "No, I keep it on to lop the heads off little birds who ask too many questions."

She was silenced. Sneaking a glance sideways at him, Sansa was again unnerved by how little expression his face showed. She tried not to shiver and set off at a brisk walk instead, searching for something that wouldn't…offend him? She didn't even know.

"Thank you for watching me, ser."

"Chirp away, little bird," he said, sharply. "A dog isn't a knight, hard as it may be to tell the difference."

Sansa flinched again and fell silent. Everything she tried to say…a sudden thought crossed her mind and she glanced up at the Hound through her eyelashes. "Would anyone mind if I picked a few flowers?"

He turned his head to stare at her, blankly, and she felt a little bit of childish pleasure at the surprise in his expression. He shrugged again, and she made herself beam as she might have for her prince. "How delightful," she said, sweetly, and flitted off to gather some flowers.

It wasn't long before she lost him, darting among the bushes and gathering a bouquet of the flowers, all sweet-smelling and blooming and beautiful. It didn't look as though _winter was coming _here. It looked like spring in full bloom. When she had a handful of them, she found a quiet bench and started weaving them together, head bent intently over her work.

Of course the Hound found her shortly. "What are you doing?" Sansa looked up and smiled sweetly, holding up the half-finished crown. The Hound eyed it warily, leaning against a tree. "What is _that_?"

Nimble fingers finished the circle and Sansa bounced to her feet. "Kneel," she told him, trying to make her voice commanding, and was against satisfied by the brief befuddlement in his eyes as he obeyed. She leaned over and carefully placed the little circle of flowers on his head. "There," she said, with a pleased little smile. He reached up, seeming almost self conscious, but she tugged his hand back down. "Don't. You'll knock it off."

"Couldn't have that." The Hound still sounded confused and she had to fight not to giggle.

"It suits you."

"Does it."

"Yes, it does." Sansa beamed again and on an impulse swooped forward to plant a kiss on the non-burned side of his forehead before stepping back and declaiming imperiously, "Arise. Now you are a _true _knight. The Knight of Flowers."

The confusion and vague amusement vanished. The Hound's face went flat and he was on his feet in a moment, sweeping the little flower crown from his head and stepping back from her. "Sing a better song, little bird. No one's going to believe that one."

Sansa gaped, in surprise. "…pardon me?"

The Hound snorted, and suddenly he was frightening again, eyes dark, face savagely carved from stone. "Save your little flower-crown for a _true _knight, _Princess _Sansa. Perhaps there may even be one somewhere." He turned on his heel, violently, and began to stride away. She stood frozen and on the brink of tears.

"Where are you going?"

"Hell. Does it matter? Find someone else to play your little games."

She gaped at his back. "Wait – ser –" He turned. Finally his face showed an expression that she could read without question, and she flinched back from his fury, half expecting him to snarl like the Dog he was.

"_Don't call me ser." _

Then he was gone.


End file.
